


Beth

by kittychalamet



Category: Original Work
Genre: Cannibalism, F/M, Horror, Original Character(s), Original Fiction, Short, Survival Horror, Time Skips
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:47:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27107443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittychalamet/pseuds/kittychalamet
Summary: In a post-apocalyptic society, people have turned to eat one another in desperation for survival. A Georgian family of six has a daughter named Elizabeth who disobeys the family rule, which dictates she not speak to the stock (people they consume). This results in her and the family's demise.
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Male Character
Kudos: 2





	Beth

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first work. It's not the greatest, but I'm hoping to grow as a writer. This has been a dream of mine for many years. Please feel free to leave constructive criticism in the comments! Love you!

The world has stopped turning. The water no longer moved. The birds no longer sang.

Civilization has deteriorated into nothing but decay. Agriculture has failed due to all of the pollution. There is a constant haze blocking the sun, so it’s cloudy, even on sunny days. All animals have died except for cats and dogs since they depend on humans to survive. They chewed on the bones of the eaten. Everyone has turned against one another. 

Each country resorted to their own methods of survival. East Asian countries breed dogs to eat while Western countries eat people. Southern countries like Australia and Northern countries like Canada are uninhabitable due to their extreme weather conditions. Having a big family gets you an advantage because attackers have more people to watch out for.

As such, there are three rules the children of the house must follow: no talking to strangers, no walking around without a gun, and no, under any circumstances, making friends with the stock. 

They’re allowed to talk to the stock, tease them, bang them up a bit, but they can only do so if they prevent themselves from feeling guilt or remorse. 

“They’re not your friend. They’ll try and trick you. They’re not your friend,” Mama always said. 

Elizabeth, the youngest daughter, only 9 years old, rarely heeded her mother’s warnings. To her, the scorching red sky was out of a fairytale, rather than out of an apocalyptic movie. 

She often found herself intertwining her fingers with the youngest stock, a little girl and boy, through their rusted cage. The young stock was kept separately from the adults because Grandpa had the idea to raise them to fit for work, rather than for food. 

Elizabeth stayed with them all evening until she eventually fell asleep in front of them. 

The young boy sat in silence watching. The little girl sat still for a few heartbeats as well and then immediately seized the opportunity in front of her. Over time, the rust weakened certain points of the cage to the point where if pushed enough, it could bust open. The little girl did just that. She pushed and pushed and pushed until a few bars fell through. 

The opening was still too small. The little girl could fit nothing more than the wrist of her hand through. The little boy watched in fascination behind her. The little girl kept pushing on the cage, wiggling it back and forth until it lifted enough to fit a small animal through. She decided that was good enough and slid her right leg under. There wasn’t much space, so her head lay on the lap of the boy. He still said nothing, but now fear filled his eyes with the thought of being caught. He looked over at Elizabeth sleeping peacefully. 

The girl slid her other leg through, now laying on her stomach. The jagged bars dug into her skin, up her thighs, and deep into her back until she was finally out. The little boy stayed in the cage. 

In front of her is the slaughterhouse. A red building on the family acreage where the stock is hung, chopped and grinned down if necessary. The little girl woke up Elizabeth. She smiled sweetly in her sleepy daze and held her new friend’s hand. The little girl took her to the slaughterhouse to play. 

They walked up the metal stairs to the second floor, which overlooked the grinder below. Neither the girl nor Elizabeth flinched at the sight of bloody, hanging stock. They had both seen worse. 

Neither of them had shoes, so they sat on their cold feet as they took turns braiding each other’s hair. Elizabeth’s hair was shorter, better for combat. The girl’s hair was long and overgrown. After braiding their hair, they played patty cake while staring into each other’s eyes. Elizabeth’s eyes were the color of a forest while the girl’s eyes resembled the ocean. 

While enamored by each other’s eyes, the sunset. Mama started calling for Elizabeth to come back inside. When Elizabeth got up to stand, the girl did not let go of her hand. Elizabeth tried tugging her hand away, but the girl only gripped tighter. Elizabeth yelped in pain. The girl jumped up and slammed Elizabeth’s back onto the railing. 

Elizabeth began screaming for her mother, but the girl covered her mouth while she kicked her legs. Elizabeth fell to her knees, and the girl pushed her under the railing. Elizabeth fell down, hit the grinder with a loud crash, and started wailing in pain and fear. The girl rushed down to see Elizabeth writhing on the ground. Fear filled the girl’s heart. Elizabeth was being too loud.

The girl grabbed a large cleaver off the wall, lifted it over her head, and slammed down on the base of Elizabeth’s neck repeatedly. After the fifth blow, Elizabeth no longer made noise. The girl kept hacking her neck, as she had seen the family do to the stock until her head was completely severed. She could not leave the body out. It was too noticeable. The girl used all of her remaining strength to pick up Elizabeth’s body and throw it into the grinder. She turned it on and ran for the hills far from the main house. 

She could still hear Mama yelling and see the orange glow of the house in the distance. The girl dropped to her knees and frantically dug a shallow hole, throwing the head inside. Mama spotted the girl and started walking over. The girl couldn’t let Mama come over, so she ran to meet her halfway. Mama grabbed her by the base of her neck and dragged her inside. The house was bright and warm. 

Mama scolded her for not coming the first time she called. Papa stood at the base of the creaky stairs with his shotgun and watched as they went up. 

“Why the hell are you so dirty? The fuck were you doin’? Go get in the bath.” 

At the top of the stairs, Mama pushed the girl in the direction of the bathroom. 

Inside the bathroom, the light was a blinding white. There were roaches crawling on the floor. In front of her was a grimy claw foot tub that was already filled, and to the right of her was a stained sink and the remains of a shattered mirror. 

She looked in the mirror. 

The eyes staring back at her felt like they were not her own. She didn’t know what was happening. The heat from the water fogged the mirror. The girl looked at the blood and dirt underneath her nails. She wondered if Mama thought she was Elizabeth. There was no way. The clothes she wore were Elizabeth’s old ones, but they were torn. Her hair was too long, but the braid across her shoulder seemed to hide its length. 

Mama thought she was Elizabeth. 

But alas, she was not. She had to become Elizabeth. The girl searched the drawers of the sink for something sharp. She found a razor and removed the blades. She taught her braid and began to slice the hair to her shoulders. When she was done, she put the braid in the broken toilet and stuffed it down using her hands. 

The girl looked back in the mirror, satisfied with her work, and sunk into the bath. The warmth relaxed her muscles and lifted the filth from her skin. Once she got out, the water was dark brown. 

The girl patted herself off with the cloth left for her on the floor and put back on the clothes she had on. Before exiting the bathroom, she looked in the foggy mirror one last time and tried pronouncing her new name. 

“Lizbeth. Eliz... Beth,” she said with uncertainty. 

Her eyes hardened. She looked in the mirror and said firmly, “Beth.” Her name was Beth. 

Beth left the bathroom and walked downstairs. She followed the ruckus to where everyone was gathered in the dining room. She sat down on the empty chair next to the brother and across from the sister. Their names were Chuck and Mary respectively. 

Mama came in with the food. She said an animal must’ve fallen in the grinder. The brother said it must’ve been a small one. Everyone got a plateful of pink mush about the size of their fist. Blood still poured from the meat. 

They ate Elizabeth with ferocity and eagerness- like animals. Papa sucked on the bones of his daughter. Chuck complimented the freshness of the food. Beth twisted her legs knowing she killed their meal only a few short minutes ago, but she was still happy to watch them eat. 

Beth ate her food too. It was the most she had eaten in days. Her stomach was full by the time dinner was over. She fell asleep quickly. 

The next morning Beth left before anyone else had risen. She walked back to where Elizabeth was. Though she tried her best to bury it last night, the head was still above ground, and though it wasn’t last night, it now faced toward the house. The wind must’ve turned it.


End file.
